Meade L. T. - The Children of Wilton Chase стр 22.

Mr. Wilton was a very affectionate father, but no one must think the worse of him for shrinking at this moment from the ordeal which lay before him. When the day came, he would throw himself into the fun, heart and soul he would be the life of the rioters, the ringleader of the pleasure-seekers. He would do this, and he would enjoy himself, but in anticipation the prospect was not cheerful. He had forgotten all about his birthday; he had further made arrangements for to-morrow he was to see a friend in the neighboring town; they were to lunch together, and discuss the autumn shooting. Afterward he had intended to ride some miles farther on and visit a lady, a certain Mrs. Gray, who had been a great friend of his wife's, and whom he had rather neglected of late. He had made all his plans; they were none of them vital, of course, and they could be postponed, but it was disagreeable to have to do this.

Mr. Wilton pushed his Times aside, rose from the breakfast-table and went out. He must order his horse and ride over at once to Quarchester, and put his friend off. How ridiculous if would sound to have to say, "My dear Furniss, the young ones are celebrating my birthday to-morrow, so I can't come."

Mr. Wilton stood on the gravel sweep, called a groom, gave the necessary directions, and looked around him. He was glad none of the children were about he did not want to discuss the birthday until he felt in a better humor. What a good thing the children were employed elsewhere!

Just then, however, he heard a shrill childish laugh, and the next moment little Lucy, hotly pursued by fat Marjorie, dashed into view. Lucy rushed up to her father, clasped her arms round his legs and looked up into his face.

Marjorie panted up to her. "No, no, Lucy, you are unkind," she said. "It is wrong of you to run away like this, and when Miss Nelson is so sad, too."

"Hullo, Maggie, have you no word of greeting for me?" asked her father.

"Oh, father, I beg your pardon; I wanted to catch Lucy and bring her back to prayers. She's quite wild this morning; I expect it's because of the birthday being so near, but it does tease Miss Nelson so when the children don't come in quietly to prayers."

"Run into

the house this moment, Lucy," said Mr. Wilton, in a tone which all the children immediately obeyed. "You stay, Maggie."

Lucy trotted off.

"Was I right in hearing you say, Maggie, that Miss Nelson was ill?"

"Not exactly ill, father, but she's fretting."

"Fretting? What about?"

Marjorie edged up to her father in the confidential way which made people take to her at once.

"It's her little sister's picture," she said. "A miniature, and it's it's lost. It it can't be found."

"I never knew Miss Nelson had a sister."

"Oh, yes; only she's dead a dear little girl she died a long time ago, and Miss Nelson is very fond of her miniature, and it's it's lost!"

Just at this moment the groom appeared, leading Mr. Wilton's spirited bay mare.

"What a tragic face, Maggie," said her father, chucking her under the chin. "We must only trust that the picture is mislaid, not lost. Now, good-by, my dear, I am off to Quarchester."

As Mr. Wilton rode down the avenue he thought in a slightly contemptuous way of Marjorie's information.

"I do trust Miss Nelson is not too sentimental," he murmured. "Poor Maggie looked absolutely tragic over her governess's loss. I really was prepared to hear of some recent bereavement; but the loss of a miniature, and of course it is only mislaid! I do trust Miss Nelson is the right person to bring up a tender-hearted little thing like Maggie. Now, Ermengarde Hullo! there is Ermengarde!"

Yes, just ahead of him, and quite unconscious that she was observed, walked Ermengarde in close confabulation with Susan Collins.

Mr. Wilton's brow darkened as he saw the two together.

"This is absolute carelessness on Miss Nelson's part," he said to himself. "She knows my wishes, and it is her business to see that Ermengarde obeys. I must have a very serious talk with Miss Nelson when I return home this afternoon, but I have no time to attend to the matter now. If I don't hurry, I shall miss seeing Furniss."

Mr. Wilton galloped quickly away, found his friend at home, and in conversation with him forgot all home worries. He forgot them so absolutely that he accepted an invitation to spend the day and dine. In consequence it was near midnight when he returned to Wilton Chase, and the fact that to-morrow was his birthday again absolutely escaped his memory.

CHAPTER IX. FIVE O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING

"Yes, who's there. I'm so sleepy. Oh, it's you, Eric. What do you want?"

"It's father's birthday, and the clock has just struck four. You promised you'd get up at four."

"Yes; but, oh dear me, I am so sleepy."

Marjorie yawned, and twisted about on her pillow.

"Are you sure it wasn't three that struck, Eric?"

"No, four; I counted the strokes. I thought you liked getting up early."

"So I do, but don't talk so loud, or you'll wake Ermie."